


Diplomacy, Family, and Something More

by talktob3cks



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Telerin OC's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 06:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8655037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talktob3cks/pseuds/talktob3cks
Summary: Earwen is chosen to handle trade negotiations with the Noldor. Finwe's ambassador is not who she expected. This is the story of Earwen and Arafinwe's first meeting.





	1. Diplomacy and Family

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This s the story of how Earwen and Finarfin met. Also posted on ff.net. Any critiques or suggestions are welcome. Enjoy the story!
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien, I simply trespass in his imagination.

Earwen caught her notes as a warm sea breeze blew through the window, fluttering the pages she had been writing on. She searched around the desk to find a suitable paperweight. 

“He’s here!” the voice inches from her ear startled her. She glared up at her brother, smacking him on the arm. “Arpane, I spent all afternoon writing a summary on yesterday’s council meeting for Atto,” she admonished her brother, who merely laughed. “And you, Volendo, you played party to this treason,” she pointed at her oldest brother smirking at her across from his desk. 

“That splotch is small,” Arpane indicated the black spot on Earwen’s previously pristine paper. ”Atto won’t notice.” 

Earwen snorted. “You’re a child,” she informed him, disgusted. 

Arpane laughed brightly. “What does that make you little sister?”

“You’re both children,” Volendo informed them, still scratching at his paperwork. 

“Then what does that make Atto’s advisors who just voted her on the council?” Arpane asked.

“Nursury maids,” Volendo said drily. 

Earwen balled her ruined paper and threw it at her teasing brother. He simply caught it and kept writing. She groaned in frustration. She would rewrite the summary instead of passing it off to a scribe, and her brothers knew it. She was exceedingly proud of being voted onto the council the previous year, and she worked hard to please her father. She knew he was happy with her, but she relished the pleased wink he gave her when she had done a good job. 

The novelty of attending council meetings had long-since abandoned her older brothers, but they were amused by Earwen’s enthusiasm. The fact that she was a shrewd diplomat further entertained them. 

“So who arrived brother?” Volendo looked up from his work to bring their attention back to the purpose of Arpane’s interruption. 

“Our friendly Noldorin ambassador just arrived. He’s settling in now, but he’ll join us at dinner.” Arpane winced. 

Volendo threw down his pen and rubbed his eyes. “Ulmo save us, he’s early.”

“Curufinwe’s good manners are apparent as ever,” Arpane begrudgingly ceased his rant when he saw his brother’s lifted eyebrow. 

Earwen sighed. “I almost forgot about him.”

“You were only a child when he was last here. I envy you sister. I have nightmares about Finwe’s spawn.” Arpane shivered. 

Smiling, Earwen shook her head. “I wouldn’t say that to anyone else,” she teased.

“Fine,” Arpane surrendered, “after all, every diplomat we meet with should be treated as if they were sovereign themselves. Even if said diplomat is Prince Curufinwe,” he intoned in Olwe’s voice. Earwen grinned at the perfect impression. “Also, Atto has offered to allow one of us to assist him in handling negotiations with the Noldo, isn’t that nice?” 

“I’d prefer catching lobsters with my bare hands,” Volendo admitted honestly. 

“Unfortunately that’s not an option. So, who’s up for the challenge?” Arpane lifted his eyebrow at his two siblings. Neither spoke. 

“Fine,” Earwen took charge. She tore three small pieces of paper from the waste beside her, marked one, and folded them. “We’ll draw for it,” Her brothers glanced at each other and then shrugged. Volendo drew first, smiling with relief when he unfolded a blank piece. Arpane took more time, wavering between the two remaining papers. “Just pick!” Earwen rolled her eyes. He did, laughing when he ended with the other empty paper. 

Earwen muttered a curse that would have made a fishing-boat captain proud. She glared at her brothers, then left to speak with her father’s councilor on trade. It was going to be a long negotiation, but she would be damned before letting a Noldor best her at diplomacy.

 

The arduous process began while she was dressing for dinner. Looking at her array of jewelry, she realized she had a problem. Choosing a circlet was easy. She only had two; one for formal affairs and one for semi-formal occasions such as tonight’s meal. Picking her jewelry took every ounce of diplomatic intuition she possessed. She wanted to strike a balance between seeming standoffish and appearing overeager to the princely ambassador. 

She fingered the pearl strand her parents had given her as a begetting day gift when she was younger. It was exquisite, but uniquely Telerin. She thought they might inspire the prince, renowned for his craftsmanship, to be patronizing and unwilling to work with her. 

She glanced over at the earring and necklace set her father had brought back to her after returning from a trip to Tirion. The sapphires glowed amidst a lattice of mithril. Earwen sighed. Curufinwe probably made it. He might be amused if she wore it, but that was not what she wanted.

Realizing the futility of her situation, she decided to flaunt the elegant craftsmanship Eru had given her instead of relying on elven adornments. Earwen smirked at the dress her aunt had given her. It was low cut and highlighted her natural curves. It was perfectly acceptable for a young, single, Telerin lady to wear but not conservative enough to display at court functions. 

Having solved this first set of problems, Earwen dressed, and began her walk to dinner. She met her older brothers dawdling at the top of the staircase. 

“I suppose there is a reason why the sons of Olwe are not known for their valour,” she said, causing them to turn to her. 

Arpane chuckled when he saw her. “I don’t think Atto needs this treaty badly enough to approve of you attempting to seduce the crown prince,” Volendo lifted an eyebrow. 

Earwen rolled her eyes. “I’m not trying to ‘seduce’ anyone. I am simply attempting to build rapport. Look,” she explained when she saw her brothers did not take her statement seriously, “I know that the prince appreciates beauty.”

“Because he already has three children?” Volendo asked. 

Earwen rolled her eyes. “No. I know he appreciates beauty because the Noldor say that Finwe’s son is especially fair, and he certainly seems to appreciate himself.” Her sound logic caused her brothers to howl with laughter. 

Reluctantly, Volendo ended their conversation. “We are prolonging the inevitable. It’s time to save Atto from the Finwion.” He gallantly offered his arm to his sister, and Earwen accepted it. 

The three siblings walked to the royal family’s private drawing room. Tonight, they would eat an intimate meal with their guest. The official feast would come tomorrow, when Curufinwe should have arrived. 

Earwen gracefully entered the room beside her eldest brother. Her father stood to the side, speaking with a lord Earwen did not recognize. 

“Ah, here are my offspring now,” Olwe beckoned to Earwen and her brothers. The king caught Earwen’s crestfallen look and smiled at her. “Let me introduce you to Prince Arafinwe Finwion,”

Earwen almost laughed at the shocked relief she felt radiating from her brother. Her father continued the introduction, “These are my two eldest sons, Volendo and Arpane.” The three princes bowed to each other. “This,” Olwe indicated her, “is my daughter, Earwen.”

Earwen smiled at Finwe’s youngest son. He looked at her then, his blue eyes meeting her silver, and Earwen was lost. Earwen curtsied out of habit rather than conscious thought. 

The spell was broken when Earwen’s mother announced dinner was ready.

TBC...


	2. Something More?

I cannot believe I already messed up. I’ll never be good at politics, was the refrain which ran through Arafinwe’s head as he conversed with Olwe. 

Arafinwe had been dragged away from his books and his comforting solitude and sent to Alqualonde to treat with Olwe. Feanaro has passed up this duty which normally fell to him in favor of completing his current project. Nolofinwe would have gone in place of his brother, but his wife was pregnant with their first child, and he was reluctant to leave her. Therefore the task fell to Arafinwe who had little training in, less experience with, and no regard for politics. 

Arafinwe had assured his father of his confidence, which had been difficult because he was naturally honest, and lying was difficult for him. However, he craved his father’s admiration. Arafinwe was not skilled at craftsmanship or diplomacy, and he was often lost among the forceful, talented members of his large family. 

To impress his father, Arafinwe first needed to impress the Teleri. In a fit of anxiety, he had taken his normally healthy trait of punctuality to an insulting level and arrived a day ahead of when he had been expected. Olwe had been gracious, but Arafinwe knew he must have been annoyed.

The Noldorin prince was pulled out of his self-deprecation when he realized Olwe waited for an answer. Arafinwe paled when he could not recall the king’s question. The entrance of the Olwe’s children at that moment was especially fortuitous. 

“Ah, here are my offspring now,” Olwe beckoned toward three silver-haired elves. Arafinwe noted that they appeared crestfallen when they saw him. No doubt they were disappointed that he was here instead of Feanaro. Olwe introduced him to the two Telerin princes. “This,” Olwe gestured toward the third elf, “is my daughter, Earwen.”

She was lovely. Her blue-gray eyes sparkled, and Arafinwe thought they might change color with her mood. The princess’s gown was the sort his mother would raise a disapproving eyebrow at, but it was perfect on the Telerin maid. Her long hair shone like Telperion’s light. 

Arafinwe was enchanted. He covered his awkward shyness with an elegant bow. He would have stared at Earwen all night if Olwe’s wife had not called them to dinner. He offered an arm to the princess, and they entered the dining room together. 

The youngest Telerin prince, Alagos, joined them. He was no more than ten and his bright, blue eyes studied Arafinwe curiously. 

Arafinwe sat at the king’s right-hand side next to Earwen and across from the crown prince. Olwe asked his guest about Tirion and his family. Arafinwe was unused to being the focus of attention, and he tried hard not to squirm. Olwe seemed to sense his tension and directed the conversation to his children, allowing Arafinwe to enjoy his meal. 

The royal family dynamics fascinated Arafinwe, who had learned to carefully observe his own family interactions. These relations varied, but they followed similar patterns. Indis would do something to annoy Feanaro, who would retaliate subtly yet harshly against her. Nerdanel would silently chastise her husband, Findis would lay her fork down and stare quietly at her plate, and Nolofinwe would grit his teeth at his half-brother’s rudeness. Finwe would bequeath a disapproving stare on his eldest, but would remain quiet. Lalwende would address Feanaro’s rudeness, he would argue with her, and Nolofinwe would finally step into their debate, which may or may not end in a shouting match Eventually, Findis could no longer stifle her tears, she would throw her napkin down and leave the room. Lalwende would leave to follow her sister. Finwe would finally call an end to the uproar, Feanaro would smirk, Nolofinwe would glare at him, the children would shrink in their seats, and Anaire would drain her wine glass. Arafinwe observed these events. He decided when to intervene, which was almost never, and would take note of whose feelings were hurt and who needed to be checked on later that evening. 

The earnest interest and friendly teasing shocked Arafinwe. He inwardly flinched several times during the meal expecting an enraged outburst to some comment made and instead observed laughter or a teasing reply. The Teleri were odd, informal people. Arafinwe liked them. 

Sorrowful sniffling interrupted Arafinwe’s intercultural studies. The littlest Telerin prince’s cries drew the entire table’s attention. 

“Alagos! What is the matter?” the queen asked the child sitting next to her. 

An incomprehensible, drooling wail was his answer. The only decipherable word was “Atto.”

Olwe sighed, laid his fork and knife down, and gestured to his youngest, who hopped from his chair, dashed around the table and launched himself at his father. When the elfling was settled in his father’s lap, his tears soothed and his nose wiped, on his father’s court robes, he was able to answer his mother’s question. 

“I… don’t…” he hiccupped and continued, “like… it,” he pointed at his plate of artistically arranged crab legs. The queen rolled her eyes as her older children snorted discreetly into their napkins. 

Arafinwe reminded himself that he was a prominent ambassador and it would not be appropriate to duck under the dining room table. He would have if such a scene had occurred in Tirion. He had attempted this behavior when he was a young elfing. Once. He had been informed that a prince of the Noldor did not behave in such a manner. Being oblivious to his uncle’s lesson, Turkafinwe recently repeated the offense. Once.

The Telerin king looked at the child on his lap and nodded. He removed his slimy sleeve from his son’s grasp, took his cloth napkin and wiped the elfling’s face. “That hardly seems like a reason to cry so pitifully. Are you not hungry?” he questioned quietly. 

Alago’s lips quivered when he nodded his head. Olwe gestured to Earwen to pass him her younger brother’s plate. He cut the meat, dipped it in the buttery sauce, and held it in front of the child. After another sniffle, the elfling took the offered bite, chewed it, and swallowed. 

“Olwe,” the queen chastised her husband, “you will spoil him,” she said. Her criticism was unconvincing with the smile she could not contain. 

He grinned at Arafinwe over his son’s head. “I hope you will forgive us. My son is not used to eating so late, and it is already past his bedtime.”

Arafinwe had to clear his throat before answering. “I do not mind,” he assured them. He went back to his meal, blinking hard at the food that had grown blurry in front of him. He could feel Earwen watching him. 

“Your father wishes to negotiate a new trade agreement?” Olwe inquired of his visitor. 

Feeling the king’s gaze upon him, Arafinwe looked up and blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Atto,” Earwen reprimanded, “our poor guest has not even settled in yet. He cannot be expected to talk politics at this hour.” Arafinwe twitched her a grateful smile. 

Olwe shook his head. “Forgive me, Prince Arafinwe. My daughter is wise. I believe it iss past time for all of us to retire,” He indicated the elfling nodding off in his lap. “Earwen, would you escort the prince to his quarters?”

“Of course Atto.” Earwen rose gracefully from the table. 

She smiled and Arafinwe had enough sense to stand and follow her. He took his leave from the king and his family and walked beside Earwen. She led him down a hall that opened to the sea on one wall. 

“I will take you the scenic way. I hope you don’t mind.”

Earwen walked slowly giving Arafinwe enough time to enjoy the balmy temperature. He stopped, leaned against the balcony railing, and closed his eyes. He heard the waves crashing on the shore beneath and breathed in the salty scent. He could just feel cool sea spray carried by the wind. He looked up to see Earwen standing beside him gazing out across the unending horizon. Her expression was serene and her silver hair blew gently in the breeze. 

“You are so fortunate,” he flushed when he realized he had spoken out loud. Earwen frowned her lack of understanding, and Arafinwe reluctantly clarified. “Your family is wonderful. You are fortunate to have them.”

Smiling warmly, Earwen nodded. “Indeed. Although as you saw, there is hardly a dull moment. I am certain you can understand with two brothers and two sisters.”

Arafinwe surprised himself again when he spoke. “I’m practically invisible to them.” He saw Earwen glance at him, but she stayed quiet, allowing him to talk without pressuring him. He felt compelled to continue. “I worshipped my eldest brother when I was young. He never noticed me; I was beneath even his contempt. He despises us. My oldest brother, Feanaro. He lost his mother when he was a small child, and I think he is terrified he will lose Atar to us. It is nonsense, Atar loves him deeply,” he stopped talking. 

Earwen listened intently. 

“Sometimes I wonder if Adar regrets marrying my mother,” he whispered, sharing with her the deepest worry of his heart. He had never spoken these feelings, he did not even admit them to himself. “I know he cares for me less than he does my brothers, but I can accept that. I just want him to be proud of me. I try so hard, but I cannot help but disappoint him. He never says so, but I can see it.” He drew a long, shaky breath and stared at the ocean in front of him. He could not stop the tear that slid down his cheek. 

A warm hand wrapped itself around his. 

She was quiet for a long time. “We have awful storms during the summer. Occasionally some of our ship will be caught at sea, and the crews ride them out as best as they can. When I was about twenty, one of my brother’s friends was hit in the head by a broken spar. He did not die, but he lost his vision, although the healers did what they could. I remember hearing about the accident. I was watching Laurelin’s light sparkle on the water. I wept. I could not imagine living without seeing the golden light every morning.” She turned and faced the elf beside her. “I pity them. I pity your father for his blindness.”

She lifted Arafinwe’s hand to her lips, and kissed it tenderly. 

 

Earwen blushed when she realized how forward her impulsive behavior was. But she enjoyed the feel of Arafinwe’s hand in hers, and she did not want to let it go. The timing and the mood were not right so she smiled softly and stepped back.

It was perfectly timed. A second later they heard footsteps. Earwen hoped she managed to not look guilty. She turned and faced her eldest brother, who was walking toward them. 

Volendo studied them carefully, then cleared his throat and held out the garment draped over his arm. “Sister, you left your shawl behind. I thought you might want to have it.”

Surpressing an eyeroll, Earwen reached for the cloth. “Thank you brother. How kind of you to walk all this way to bring me this.”

Arafinwe ducked his head. Earwen thought she saw him smirk. 

Her brother lifted an eyebrow. “I am fortunate to find you here. I thought you must have retired to room by now,” a small dose of censure permeated his voice. 

Chivalrously stepping forward, Arafinwe addressed the prince. “It is my fault that your sister was delayed. I got lost staring at the sea.” His gaze skimmed the horizon once more. 

Arafinwe’s new tack proved to be an excellent course, and Volendo took his words as a complement of his father’s realm. The crown prince smiled and looked out across the waters. “I cannot fault you for that.” 

Earwen watched her brother place his hand on Arafinwe’s shoulder, guiding him towards the guest quarters. 

“Nevertheless,” the Telerin prince said, “you must be tired. Come along. The sea will be here when you awaken. The two men began walking down the hall.

Earwen hurried to join them. She was slightly annoyed with her brother’s interference, but could not truly be angry over his protectiveness. He was behaving surprisingly well.mostly, Earwen felt disappointed she no longer strolled arm in arm with Arafinwe. It was, however, somewhat easier to breathe, and her heart had stopped racing.

The three royal elves meandered their way through the palace’s spacious corridors until they reached the room which had been prepared for the Noldorin prince.

Opening the door, Earwen walked in, looking around to make certain everything was in place. “I hope you will be comfortable here, my lord. In that room is a terrace overlooking the sea. Will that upset you? Sometimes our guests have trouble sleeping because of the waves crashing.” She chewed her fingernail nervously. It was a bad habit she could not break despite her brothers’ teasing. 

Without looking at the room, Arafinwe kept his eyes on his hostess. “It is perfect. Thank you my lady.” He gave a small bow.

“If you need anything….” Earwen began. Her sentence drifted off at Arafinwe’s gentle smile.

Earwen missed her brother’s exasperated sigh. “Come, let u leave our guest in peace,” he gestured to his sister. 

To Earwen’s dismay, he opened the door for her to exit into the hallway first. She glanced back at the golden haired prince. She was unsure what she had wanted to happen, but thi was not it. The evening was over to quickly, the goodbye much too abrupt. She glimpsed Arafinwe gifting her one last smile before she walked down the hall, waiting for her brother to join her.

Volendo did not leave right away. He stood at the dorrway, facing the Noldo. 

A silent conversation unfolded between the two men. Earwen bit her fingernail again. She was about to interrupt and address her brother when he spoke.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Arafinwe.” He stuck out his hand. When the Noldo took it, the Teler gripped his arm and pulled him in for a warm, brotherly hug, obviously surprising his guest. 

“I am glad you are here.” Volendo caught his sister watching them. “I think we are all glad you are here.”

“The pleasure is mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!


End file.
